to free it of the salt, it was
unwholesome and filthy to the taste, breeding various painful sicknesses
and fevers. It was on this day of the cutting of the aqueduct that
Otomie bore me a son, our first-born. Already the hardships of the siege
were so great and nourishing food so scarce, that had she been less
strong, or had I possessed less skill in medicine, I think that she
would have died. Still she recovered to my great thankfulness and joy,
and though I am no clerk I baptized the boy into the Christian Church
with my own hand, naming him Thomas after me.

Now day by day and week by week the fighting went on with varying
success, sometimes in the suburbs of the city, sometimes on the lake,
and sometimes in the very streets. Time on time the Spaniards were
driven back with loss, time on time they advanced again from their
different camps. Once we captured sixty of them and more than a thousand
of their allies. All these were sacrificed on the altar of Huitzel,
and given over to be devoured by the Aztecs according to the beastlike
custom which in Anahuac enjoined the eating of the bodies of those who
were offered to the gods, not because the Indians love such meat but for
a secret religious reason.

In vain did I pray Guatemoc to forego this horror.

'Is this a time for gentleness?' he answered fiercely. 'I cannot save
them from the altar, and I would not if I could. Let the dogs die
according to the custom of the land, and to you, Teule my brother, I say
presume not too far.'

Alas! the heart of Guatemoc grew ever fiercer as the struggle wore on,
and indeed it was little to be wondered at.

This was the dreadful plan of Cortes: to destroy the city piecemeal as
he advanced towards its heart, and it was carried out without mercy.
So soon as the Spaniards got footing in a quarter, thousands of the
Tlascalans were set to work to fire the houses and burn all in them
alive. Before the siege was done Tenoctitlan, queen of the valley, was
but a heap of blackened ruins. Cortes might have cried over Mexico with
Isaiah the prophet: 'Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the
noise of thy viols: the worm is spread under thee and the worms cover
thee. How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!
how art thou cut down to the ground which didst weaken the nations!'

In all these fights I took my part, though it does not become me to
boast my prowess. Still the Spaniards knew me well and they had good